


three words

by imaginedecember



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of three word prompts with various pairings and settings.</p><p>///</p><p>Pairings in order of chapter:<br/>ah ot6, micheoff, raychael, geoffray + joelay</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. silent in the trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man who lives in the floating tree above the main city wonders about the five boys that he had lost and how much he hopes to see them again some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipient: glackedandmullered on tumblr
> 
> Three words: Lost, tree, black
> 
> Pairing: ah ot6 (Gavin/Jack/Ray/Ryan/Michael/Geoff) - this is implied and not directly stated
> 
> Setting: Minecraft AU 
> 
> Chapter title: Trees by twenty one pilots

Everyone talked about the tree floating in the sky. It was their northern star, their way home. 

They didn’t know who lived up there, in the clouds, and they didn’t care to actually know. They simply stood below and wondered. Just a quick thank you, a fleeting thought, a whisper and they were gone. 

No one bothered to climb the tree, never thought to thank the person above for sending them on the right way home. 

But one added on to the tree, another climbed it, one fought for it, another fought against it and one fell from the sky on to it.

All of them on a journey to their way home - the tree and the man who resided in it.

***

The tree in the sky was in the center of the city. From any part of the city, from the outskirts to the center, one could use the tree as a way home. Most lived in the center, with the tree blooming and floating above them.

But some lived on the outskirts. 

They were wanderers and vagabonds. The braver souls sneered at them and growled out the word ‘criminal’ under their breath or to their faces if they dared. Most, though, hid away when they entered town on a whim or for a purpose. And, well, they didn’t want to be the reason behind their purpose, the sole source of their anger. 

No one wanted a repeat of the previous wars with the enemies of their lands. No one wanted to be the enemy this time around. 

The tree in the sky was a reminder to keep it peaceful. Although, that never stopped the townspeople and the vagabonds from being humans. 

And Ryan desperately needed food. Stealing was always high up on his ladder. Murder of course was first. He quite enjoyed people’s faces when he bent down to their level, whispered low in their ears his promises laced with dark intent. He quite enjoyed being a vagabond, an abnormal, a leech on the city, a criminal. 

And of course he carried anger and vengeance on his sleeves and in the stripes of his cloak. One stripe for every man dead. He didn’t kill children, though. They were innocent and hatred was mostly taught. He could always deal with them at a later date anyway if they were ever to grow to become a problem or as he put it, a product of their despicable guardians. 

So, yes, he was, honestly, the definition of what the people feared. 

But he was human. And every human carried darkness. It just depended on how they used it. 

Ryan used his to spin fear in the faces of those who dared to gaze into his eyes or to step into his personal space. 

He was quite known in the town and he was always met with silence when he climbed up the hill overlooking the city. He always made sure to make his trips quick. Steal what you can get, kill what you can’t, and never, never look above at that damn tree swirling with light and purity. An innocence and a beauty that Ryan had never known to be capable of the kind of darkness that latched on to him like a long lost friend. But he knew that all that was a facade. 

The tree had been a beacon to many but for some, it had been the final end. And he’d never forget the man up there in the tree who hid like a coward as his tree killed innocents for its energy. 

Ryan will never forget his friend’s face as his heart was sliced right through with a pointed tree branch. 

He’d never forget the way he snapped in half. 

Sometimes, he didn’t like the silence. 

He could hear the buzzing of the tree, the whisper of its leaves. It was summer and the sun was high. Sticky hot. Wiping his forehead, he frowned when sweat stuck to his skin. 

The tree was in full bloom but all he saw was fire. 

His fingers itched to light the leaves, to see the hope skip off the faces of the townspeople and on to his own face. He wanted the tree to be a beacon for him for once. And in some ways, it already was. 

It was a reminder of his duty here. He was to destroy what they had in revenge for what he had lost. 

His jaw ticked. A beat. Shrugging off the tension, Ryan griped his diamond sword and slid down the hill. 

He didn’t care about the final outcome or what would become of him. 

***

Except not all townspeople were hid away in their homes or off on trips. 

No, Jack was no fool. And besides, he was too busy building a home right beneath the shadow of the tree to care what a vagabond was doing in his city. 

He had spent months gathering materials to build the man in the sky and his tree a home. It was a gift, a token of his as well as the other’s gratitude, and he hoped that the man would feel kind enough to slip down from his cover and to the Earth below. There would be nothing in this world that Jack would love than seeing the man who had given him everything live in a home that he had built from scratch with his own hands. 

Jack tried to keep the nightmares off his mind. Everything (and everyone) had been laid to rest. 

He took a break, sucked in a breath then returned to the melodic chime of the hammer hitting a nail, of a wall being finished and a room being filled with the most opulent paintings and decorations in the whole city. It took all his money but he had a kind reputation so it didn’t take much for the other townspeople to appreciate his cause and let him room with them. It didn’t matter if Jack fell over with fatigue at the end because this was his duty. His reason in being here. 

But footsteps were coming up behind him. 

And he’d never forget the whoosh of a diamond sword and the clink and clang of metal armor clashing with a necklace worn long on one’s neck. 

“Ryan?”

Jack turned to see the man that he had become friends with over the last few months with his sword raised high above his head. His blue eyes gleamed with a special kind of darkness, one that Jack wasn’t sure could ever be snuffed out, not even with the brightest of suns. 

But Jack still smiled, still reached out for the man hidden deep and shoved underneath. He still tried to catch that last flame before it flickered out. When Ryan stepped back just a few steps, the sword in his arms shaking just a bit, Jack knew that the flame was still there. He just had to make it burst. 

But he knew he wasn’t the one who was going to do it or was the one he put it there in the first place (and who, simultaneously, took it away).

“Ryan, put the sword down. Do you need food or some shelter? It’s supposed to storm tonight.” Jack tilted his head up to the tree sprawling out and fluttering above them. The clouds were coming in like a rolling tide. It’d soon crash over them and Jack didn’t want Ryan to get lost in another storm. 

Ryan’s frown was permanently etched in his face, slicing and dicing the skin. His eyes twitched, blue fighting to stay alive, as he stared at the pleasant curve and arch of Jack’s neck, pale against his forest green cloak and ginger beard. He could imagine his pulse beating beneath the tip of his blade and how pretty blood would look leaking from his flesh. 

The sword clattered to the ground.

“Shit, I…”

Ryan struggled for words as he gripped at his head. Flashes of memories. Lightbulbs and flickers. Shadows and flames. 

He seemed to be swallowed in them until a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him in but not yanking him under. 

“Ryan, stay with me. Come on.”

Jack’s voice was a lullaby, soothing and tranquil. Ryan had never heard a song sing so sweet. Squeeing his eyes shut, he tried to push away the onslaught with Jack’s voice and touch as his keeper but he couldn’t let go (of him). 

Hands pushed at his shoulders, shoving him on to a bed. Fluffy covers washed over his body. Jack’s voice was a whisper as he talked to Ryan. They were silly tales, passed down through the centuries, and then ones of warriors and their demons. 

There was a boy named Michael in there. He was friends with someone named Ray. And there was a Gavin too. 

Ryan had never heard of them and his brain struggled to tie the pieces together. Before he knew it, the focus on their names eased the pressure in his chest. Jack’s voice grew in fervor as Ryan’s eyes fluttered open. Pure blue. 

“Thank god, Ryan.”

Jack pressed a tender kiss to Ryan’s forehead and Ryan, for what felt like years, laid back and let the man shush him and coddle him as if he was a frightened and lost child. And he was. He really was. 

“I made soup if you want it? Or I have meat if that suits you better.” Jack paused for a moment before adding, “How long have you been traveling? You smell like you haven’t even seen water in weeks.”

Ryan laughed, the sound gravely and stuck in his throat. Coughing into his hands, Ryan sat up and peered around the small one bedroom room. Jack watched his gaze before he explained, “I’m staying with a friend. This is their guest room.”

Ryan didn’t understand how he was let into anyone’s home but Jack was loved by all so he guessed that he was tacked on to it, regretfully of course.

“Jack.” His name was a prayer as Ryan jabbed at his cracked lips. He tried to rub in a smile but nothing came. A warm hand tugged at his left hand until his arms dropped.

“I’ll have none of that, okay? You are going to get your strength up while you stay here in recovery.”

“Recovery?” The word tumbled out of Ryan’s mouth like poison. He didn’t need therapy and bed rest or whatever the fuck else Jack thought of to keep him busy. He needed vengeance. He needed…god, he needed him back most of all. 

The way his blue eyes swirled like the coming clouds made Jack wish that he was the one that Ryan needed. But their paths never crossed like that no matter how many times Jack thought Ryan to have a far too beautiful soul for it to be marred by so much pain. He could never tell the older male either. Jack already knew the answer. 

Rising from the chair that he had kicked to settle next to the bed, Jack walked over to the bedroom door.

“I think you need to rest some more, Ryan. I’ll come get you in a bit.”

And the door shut, rattling hard on its hinges.

Ryan didn’t know what he did but he was the king of fucking things up. 

All he needed was a crown.

***

Ray never liked shiny things like golden crowns and all that stupid jazz. He preferred nature and the things that grew from ruined soil despite the hardships. And he quite enjoyed roses the most. 

He was a weird kind of wanderer, the one that rarely ever spoke, coming and going like a shadow. The only way one could know that he was even around was that a patch of roses were there and then gone the next. 

Many did not know his name except for a few seemingly unlikely friends. 

He had seen Michael first. He had found a beautiful platform in the sky, linked to the hills and the mountains surrounding the city. He sat on its lush grass, roses tucked in his lapel and laid out around him in a circle. 

But the sweet silence was broken by a thunderous roar. 

The sound itched at his throat and he prayed that if it was human that they didn’t scream anymore in fear of their throat ripping out. He didn’t even think to take in a breath before he was tackled on to the ground. 

“My roses, you asshole!” Ray screamed as he frowned at the broken circle. He had just gotten enough roses to make it go around twice. Twice the beauty, twice the power. He only had a few more nights before the beasts were going to come back for him and he needed all the power he could get. And some stupid people didn’t seem to understand that. Most let him go in peace. But this fool who was screaming at the top of his lungs, uncaring of who or what could be around to kill him, didn’t seem to get it. 

The man grunted before rolling off of him. Ray dusted off his suit, creasing back the collar and making sure that the wild man next to him didn’t ruin it. Patting it down, he smiled, just a little bit, at its pristine shine. 

“Dude, it’s just fucking roses. Who the hell likes ‘em anyway?” The man grabbed one, crushing it in his large hands and thumbing at the petals without a care. 

Their lush and vibrant color became tainted by the dirt and grime caked on the man’s skin. He seemed to be from the forest and backwoods themselves with his wild, unruly mop of curls, fur pelts wrapped over his shoulders, torn and shredded navy blue cloak and tan pants. 

“I do.” Gathering up the roses in a pile at his feet, Ray tried to make them look less sad but the man next to him had destroyed them in one single go. Cursing under his breath, he tucked the roses into his pockets and stood from the ground. “Thanks for ruining this for me, asshole.” 

Snatching the sad rose from the man’s fingers, he growled out a weak warning before turning on his heel and stomping away down the hill towards the city. Rose bushes were always replenished around the shadow of the tree. Another offering. And Ray quite enjoyed taking them. It was rude but they were doused with the life and sun from the tree. They were all the more special. He could take a few to make up for the lot that the wild man had destroyed.

But a paw grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards. 

“God fucking damn it! What is with you fucking criminals up there?!” Ray lashed out, his words stinging. 

The man stumbled backwards a bit at the force and the uncalled for insult before he squared his shoulders and forced his way into Ray’s personal space. Ray only trembled once before meeting the man, face to face, toe to toe. 

“Not a criminal.” And his smirk was pure death, turned up high, as he added with a snarl under his breath, “But I could be. Just for you.”

Ray had always been warned about the men outside of the city. Hell, he lived and breathed the outskirts himself. He knew what the people there were like but this man before him was something new. 

A spark. 

He could see it in his sweet brown eyes, how muddy they were with a fierceness and a passion that Ray had only seen in the roses that he clutched to his heart so fiercely. This man was a breath of fresh air. He was like the tree in the sky with a bit more life. And Ray quite enjoyed his presence despite how rude he was before. But, hell, all men couldn’t understand and he was fine with that. It was better that way, anyway. He wouldn’t want a man like the one before him to be tainted by what he carried or what he had to do in the end. 

“Alright, here.” Tucking a rose behind the man’s ear, Ray smiled something blinding and bright as he bounced back and watched the man simmer. Despite the dirt that caked his skin, the heat that bloomed in his cheeks was evident and Ray loved the look of red on the man. Sure, blue and perhaps yellow did nice. But red was the sweetest.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” His voice pitched high and scratchy but all Ray did was giggle as the man broke before him all because of a rose. 

“I thought you didn’t like them?” Ray questioned. There was a growl, a warning, before the man chased Ray around the hills and to the city below them. Squealing and screaming turned to laughing and laughing turned into a beginning of a wonderful friendship. 

See, Ray knew that there was a reason that he liked roses the best.

They always made someone beautiful even more so.

It was a flame, a spark.

***

Everything was on fire. 

And Gavin was running. 

He was a man addicted and he was running from the thing that he had once loved. 

There was something beautiful in fire, in the destruction that it caused. But with one little slip up, he was taking back everything he said. 

He didn’t have a home to come back to anymore. Granted, it was a shed in a clearing of one of the many forests surrounding the main city but it was his. And he had stupidly tripped over the front stoop that he had crafted poorly out of rocks from some of the recent mud slides. He knew that it wasn’t gonna end well but he never really thought that far ahead. 

So, now he was running away from the flames of his home. It was spreading and licking at the trees. He could hear animals stampeding out of the surrounding area. He wanted to help but his feet were carrying him away as if he was on auto pilot, as if he was floating far, far away. 

His mind turned off like a switch. 

A mask shoved on and sealed on tight. 

He didn’t think of the many fires that he caused and never put out. He didn’t think of the things and the people that his fires have taken. He didn’t think of how he didn’t even blink as they screamed and burned before his eyes. 

He was known as the fire starter, the fire king. 

***

And Ray didn’t like it that he had burned a patch of roses so carelessly. Michael had to hold him back from clocking the already exhausted boy (such a foolish child he was) in the face, right in the nose (knock it back just a bit - set him straight). 

It had taken a bit of a while for Ray to convince Michael that the roses were magical but the older male had gotten to know Ray enough not to question the boy’s instincts or weird characteristics. Ray was a friend and he wasn’t going to take that from him like how Ray was there for him whenever he had the itching to go and fight something (to use up the extra amount of strength that he had somehow acquired). 

Ray always brought him back and Michael always brought him roses. It was a nice exchange and they grew as friends through their travels around the city and back again. They never strayed too close to the main city, to the tree in the sky, to their final end. They knew its importance, could see it in the final chapters, but it wasn’t time yet. 

So, they were stuck wandering and finding odd things to do to pass the time. And they just so happened to stumble right on to a young man, exhausted from running away from the flames that he had created. The fire starter. Michael and Ray knew the story of the boy well. Too well. 

Ray shoved his foot into the boy’s sides, kicking him over until he was lying on the ground on his back. The boy merely groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck, he passed out. Fucking idiot,” Michael grumbled as he moved to kneel beside the fire starter. His hands hovered over the boy’s chest. “He’s hot as hell.”

“Didn’t think you were into men, Michael,” Ray teased. Shoving at Ray’s legs, Michael cackled when the younger male stumbled backwards and over a stuck out root, landing straight on his ass. “Damn it, that’s precious property, Michael!”

“Precious, right. There’s nothing even there.” Scoffing, Michael returned to the man passed out beneath him. 

Ray looked like a pissed off bird with his ruffled hair and crumpled clothes. Playing with the sleeves of his suit, he grumbled out, “Probably freaked and ran. He’s probably still hot from the flames chasing him out. Should’ve killed him already.” 

“Stop pissing about with your stupid grudges, man,” Michael warned. He chanced a glance at the younger male over his shoulder, shaking his head when he was met with Ray’s nonchalant stare. A defense. Well, it would take a bit for it to knock down so Ray was useless at the moment until he decided to stop caring. Michael had only seen Ray care about a few things and one of those was definitely roses (and he certainly would never shove himself into that category). 

“Whatever.” 

Michael rolled his eyes before returning his attention to the kid that had crashed into their lives. Sucking in a breath, Michael took a chance and shoved his hand down on the man’s chest. Wincing, he chomped on his bottom lip to hold back in a scream as fire bloomed under his skin. Fuck, the man seemed to have been made in lava. 

Shaking out the pain in his hand, he ignored it for the time being and focused on the way the boy’s skin seemed to vibrate and pulse with energy like it was holding something in. A boy made of fire? He knew that the kid was the fire starter but he didn’t think this was one of the reasons. 

Michael had heard stories when he was young of people who were born with a certain type of magic. They were the only ones who felt it, the only ones who could harness it. 

Michael didn’t want to assume but he knew he was one. And Ray was too. And this boy, laid out before him with skin made of fire and a soul gurgling with its heat, was one of them too.

They all had a purpose. 

And it started and ended with that fucking tree in the sky and the man who called its ugliness its home. 

***

The house was finished. 

Ryan had, thankfully, helped Jack put on the finishing touches. He shoved aside his pride and helped the man with the house. It was all he could do as a thanks to Jack. Ryan was an asshole and he fed off of anger and vengeance but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a very small soft spot for certain people. Jack was always at the top of the ladder, his other friend the first. 

“Emerald is ugly as shit,” Ryan grumbled out as he packed the material to make a bed frame. Jack shushed him.

“The color is like the brightest of leaves. The man will like it, I know.”

Ryan really hated it when Jack got all poetic. Like soft dough. It was something that Ryan saw as a weakness. He could poke and prod and Jack would yield for him. Jack would do everything for him. And Ryan. Ryan would turn his back and refuse to watch him rise. 

Vengeance always won.

Darkness was king.

And Ryan was its slave.

Jack couldn’t win against him, couldn’t stop him from giving in and fighting against the tree that had taken one of the most precious things from him. No, Jack would never be able to fight him. No one will.

He’d let Jack think that he was winning. Make him softer. Knead him how he wanted. Then leave him in the oven to burn, to die in the flames and the truth behind the facade of their precious tree in the sky would be the final thing he’d see before he perished.

Ryan wondered if he’d build Jack a grave made of emerald.

***

All Gavin saw was green. 

Michael was screaming at him, his voice going raw and strange. 

Ray was falling from above, trying to meet him in the middle. 

But Gavin kept climbing the tree.

In the middle of the night when Ray and Michael took a break outside of the city, Gavin had escaped and managed to climb one of the tallest houses in the city. Gavin was a fool and no one was surprised when he made the leap from the house to the tree. 

And he had made it. 

He was breathless and his heart was pounding like a war drum as his hands grappled with the tree branches. His feet scrambled for purchase in the bark. He had climbed trees so many times when he was younger that he felt like he was immersed in his childhood. It felt good to be here. The smell of the leaves, fresh and crisp, and the strong earth, the grounding scent of the bark. He liked how it scratched up his fingers, how it stained his skin. He liked trees the best because of how they loomed, how pretty they looked standing above him like soldiers. 

He could never be a solider but he could pretend to be.

He’d be nothing more then fire, then the destruction that he liked so much.

But he could pretend and that was fine enough for him. 

There was a crash, a rustling in the leaves. A hand swatted at his hair and he smiled, wild and crazed, at Ray. He had managed to gather enough roses to work up his powers. He had flown from the sky to the tree, crashing down to where Gavin was. They were mid-way up the trunk, not quite to the top but too far up now to go back. 

“You asshole! I wasted everything to save your ass! You better be fucking grateful.” His words were quick fire, a canon in the bustling wind that roared in their ears. Gavin only smiled wider in response. “We’re gonna die from the beasts because of you. As long as the man up there doesn’t shank us first.”

Gavin didn’t know what beats Ray was talking about. He had heard him talking about them with Michael before he skipped off. But he hadn’t thought to stick around, to get to know the people who had saved him and nourished him. He was rude like that but, hell, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t run every chance he got. And besides, it was time.

There was a roar before Gavin’s body slammed into the trunk. 

“There. Fucking idiot.” Michael’s voice was choppy in his ears. His mind swam as he tried to catch his breath back.

“You should have killed him,” Ray remarked. 

Leaning his head against the trunk, Gavin’s eyes focused enough to where he could take in Ray and Michael. Their faces were a mix of nonchalance and pure murder. A heady concoction. Gavin quite liked the way they glowed in the moonlight. Ray seemed to shimmer in red (his eyes adjusting too well to the darkness - and there was a reason he called Gavin an idiot for escaping in something that Ray could see all too well in) and Michael was no better. 

“By the way, thanks for the roses.” Michael’s smile was sweet and tender, a true killer, as he held up his fingers. His skin was stained with red. Ray smiled, nodding his head, suddenly bashful. They looked beautiful together and Gavin suddenly felt bad that they had dragged themselves up here to save him. He didn’t understand why he was so special, honestly. 

But then those smiles and eyes turned on him and he had never felt so breathless. 

“Listen, you’re a fucking idiot but you’re speeding things up I guess so I can’t be too pissed,” Michael said. Ray nodded even though Gavin wasn’t so sure that he could agree too. 

“Speeding what up?” Gavin questioned. Rolling his eyes, Michael shoved his shoulder into the bark, his chuckle deep and echoey when he squealed at the scratch of pain in his shoulder. 

“Didn’t think you could get any stupider,” Ray commented as he followed in Michael’s winding path up the tree. Gavin hesitated before he joined them. 

The tree was important to all of them and Gavin didn’t really care to know why. He figured that he’d put the pieces together after everything was done. 

***

The living room that Jack had tediously built for the man in the sky with help from Ryan was in pieces. 

Branches crashed through the windows. Sticks littered the floor and leaves fluttered on to the furniture. 

Jack was unsure what had happened but he was awoken when the Earth trembled beneath him. He had only a moment to wonder why before the home that he had built was crashed into. 

The moonlight was like a searchlight as Jack tried to figure out what could have crashed into the tree to break a few branches and send them spiraling down. He wondered if it was the man’s doing, if he was somehow angry at the home he had built. Maybe it was the emerald. 

But in the moon’s gaze, he had seen three figures climbing the tree. He didn’t think that it was humanely possible but they seemed to glow with reds, oranges and yellows. An aura.

He didn’t think that the stories that he was told as a child and the same ones that he had passed down to Ryan were true. 

They were infamous. 

Michael, Ray and Gavin - the vagabonds who wondered their forests with magical powers. They were linked to the tree in the sky, somehow, someway. 

And would Jack be a fool to think that he was too?

And Ryan, with the darkness that stirred awake inside him, was he too one of the special ones?

Were they all a part of the final war?

***

Geoff should have been preparing for battle. 

But he had thrown all of his armor into the fire. He had set aside his diamond sword and waited in the middle of the platform that he had tirelessly built at the top of the tree. Picking at the moss and twigs that peaked its way through the planks, he frowned. 

The tree beneath him seemed to vibrate as the three boys climbed up. He waited patiently for the final two. 

Pressing his palms into the floor, he smiled. His heart thrummed inside him, suddenly bursting to life as he felt his lonely existence crumble around him. The tree had held him captive, had killed him and stolen his life. His heart still ached as if the tree that had struck him was still in place, twisting and filling him with its darkness. 

Together, he knew he could defeat the tree that had done so much but had done far worse deeds than the worst of criminals. 

Together, he knew they’d find redemption.

***

Michael was the first to reach the top. He stabbed his sword into the final bit of bark, twisting it in just right to make sure that it could hold all of their weight.

Using the sword as leverage, he pulled himself up and over. Rolling on to the wooden floor, he laid there as still as he could. He watched the edge of the tree, ensuring that Ray and Gavin made it over. They climbed up with ease, Ray helping Gavin up at the last second and grabbing the sword from the bark for Michael.

Handing the sword over, Ray smiled and nodded. Michael took that as his cue. Clutching the sword, he stepped forward. 

There was an open structure in the center of the wooden platform. Through the doorway, Michael could see a man dressed in all black step away from the shadows. 

Michael didn’t expect him. 

***

And neither did Ryan. 

While Jack had woken from his slumber and rushed to assess the damage, Ryan found a man to kill. 

The man’s lifeless eyes, once washed in the freshest of greens, were now hollow. Ryan took his soul like a life force, letting the man’s energy slink its way to his body. He clenched his fingers, screaming as the once lively soul vibrated its way into his body. His heart seemed to burst with flames as he used the energy to float above the city. He seemed to be bathed in black as he reached the top of the tree. 

The darkness surrounding him like a shadow flickered, a warning, before Ryan fell from the sky and on to the wooden platform below. 

He didn’t expect the person who was standing there.

Wild raven hair. Tattoos that pulsed on his skin, dancing with a beauty that could never be contained nor described. Hands knotted and worn, long and sinewy. Clothes as dark as the night, as black as the shadows. And a heart, somehow still warm like the fire that thrummed under Gavin’s skin.

His sweet, sweet enigma.

***

Jack peered at the tree like it was a riddle that needed solving. He didn’t quite know how to get up the tree. He wasn’t like the young warriors. He was burly and he knew he couldn’t make it up the tree.

Instead, he grabbed his pickaxe and tore the house to pieces. Grabbing all of the wood, he found a good enough spot on the ground and used the wood to climb up. He didn’t care to make a staircase. 

He knew he wasn’t going to be leaving the tree.

***

Ray wanted to tuck tail and run. 

Geoff had the bluest eyes, worse than the shining sky and the oceans that he could only dream of. There was a vibrancy, a life there that Ray knew that roses could only pale in comparison to. 

He tried to forget how familiar their gaze was. 

Just how long had he been trying to recapture it?

Gavin watched him, his gaze shifting to the man who had fallen from the sky in front of them. 

No one seemed to be phased by it, too transfixed by the man in the sky and his domain. 

Until the man from the sky rose to his feet with his sword drawn. He wiped the sweat from his brow and the spit from his lips.

“Geoff.”

His name came out like a warped snarl when once it was sung just as sweet and weak as powdered sugar dough. Geoff had been able to poke him once, had watched him rise with pride in his eyes. The tree that shook beneath him had taken that from him, had burned him and left him to die. 

This stupid tree had given him this darkness that fed on his soul. This stupid tree had taken his life from him. 

Geoff tried his hardest to plead but he didn’t know where to begin. He looked around at the other’s face, at how exhausted each of them seemed to be. 

He knew everyone’s story. He had been replaying them in his head for years.

“I’m right here, Ryan.”

***

_“I’m right here, Ryan.”_

_Geoff’s voice was urgent and Ryan had never heard it crack like this._

_“What happened, Geoff?”_

_Ryan latched his fingers into the older man’s jacket, trying to find purchase. Geoff laid his hand on top of his own, shooting warmth straight through his body._

_It was then that Ryan felt the bursting heat that came from wild flames._

_“They…there was a mob and they threw potions at each other to get stronger or something but they were splash potions and it hit the tree. The tree fucking grew, man. It’s fucking floating and there’s…they’re gone, Ryan. I don’t fucking know where any of them are!”_

_He tried to get his mind to focus on what was happening but there was a fog in his brain. It was growing dark with something he couldn’t name. “Geoff,” he gasped out. Geoff’s hands squeezed his own, almost crushing them in his tight grip. He didn’t dare tell him to stop, though._

_“They had to run before the potions could hit them, Ryan. But it hit the tree. The fucking tree, man.” Geoff was loosing it. All he could do was scramble with the information he did have because the information he didn’t have had a terrible ending and he didn’t want to think of loosing the five people that meant the most to him._

_But there was something important that he was unfortunately missing but Ryan knew._

_He knew that the potions hit more than the tree._

_And with how close the flames felt and how the ground seemed to tremble beneath them, Ryan knew exactly who they hit. He just didn’t know with what but as his body grew tense, he knew it was a gamble of good versus bad._

_“Geoff, you have to go. Find the others.”_

_Geoff’s choked gasp was all he heard before there was sickening snap._

_And all Ryan thought was what was iterated to him so many times._

__The potion of harming is the best arsenal that we have, Ryan.

It’s instant.

***

The floodgates that opened after were immediate.

“How could we have forgotten?” 

It was a plausible question. 

And Jack had the answer. 

Rising to the same level as the platform, he built a bridge over and stepped off the final wooden block. Tucking his pickaxe back into his belt, he gazed at the men that he had once called friends. 

“Short term memory loss. And with the effects of the potions, it wasn’t a great combination. I’m just happy that all of you boys are in one piece. I was afraid that…”

And Jack couldn’t say it out loud.

Geoff cleared his throat before kneeling in front of Ryan. The man’s blue eyes widened as they met his. The fear he saw there was reflected in the gazes that he saw around him. Everyone had been frightened. They had forgotten their beginnings but knew their ending. He was just happy that they were alive and here with him as they should be.

“Are you guys gonna hug me or?” he questioned.

Everyone laughed and how he missed how sweetly they rang together. Jack crouched next to him and Ryan, a hand on his lower back. Michael crashed into his left side, the strength potion brewing in his body wearing off but enough was still there to knock Geoff down a peg. Ray found a spot next to Ryan, leaning into the older male. Gavin took the other side of him, sighing low under his breath at the warmth that surrounded him. The fire in his skin could never compare.

Geoff looked at his boys with tears in his eyes. And they peered back at him, glowing and for once not in sadness but in happiness.

They took a few moments to gather their wits and to savor the idea of being together again before they used the last of their potions to get down from the tree.

Ray used his night vision to guide them down the trunk. Michael used his strength to catch each of them and set them gently on to the ground. The healing potion that hit Jack had faded a while ago but he did enough healing on his own that a potion was never needed. And Gavin used that last spark in him to set the tree on fire. Every leaf, every twig. And when he came spiraling down from the top, Michael caught him one final time and laid him down beside him so they could all run away together to the outskirts of the city. 

As they watched the main city burn to the ground, they chatted over the city that they would build in its wake. And they’d be so strong together that they wouldn’t need a tree to be their soldier. 

In the end, all they needed was each other. 

No matter how much they wandered or how long they may have forgotten, they’d always come back to the center of the city where they had laid to rest their beginning and started anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To ease any confusion, here's a summary of what you just read:
> 
> In the main city, the people there were fighting against a host of enemies. To protect them, they built a tree. Meanwhile, they tried to come up with a combination of potions that would give them powers as well as harmful potions that would hurt their enemies if they were to ever attack. When their enemies ambushed them, however, they threw their portions in rapid succession, only caring about surviving then rational thought. 
> 
> The potions hit the tree as well as Ray, Michael, Gavin, Geoff, Ryan and Jack. Ray was hit with a potion of night vision, Michael was hit with a potion of strength, Gavin was hit with a potion of fire resistance, Jack was hit with a potion of healing, Geoff was hit with a potion of harming and Ryan was hit with a potion of poison. 
> 
> They had lived together in the same city and had been lovers. After the events, however, they only had bits and pieces left of their past until they climbed the tree together and met Geoff.


	2. low spirits and discolored bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is a poor kid who looks at the mansion at the top of the hill with disdain. Except, he doesn't quite know yet just why exactly he's so drawn to it until he meets the man who lives there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipient: exinspired on tumblr
> 
> Three words: wealthy, ice, wind
> 
> Pairing: micheoff (Michael/Geoff)
> 
> Setting: Michael is a poor kid and Geoff is wealthy

Michael gripped his thin coat tighter to his shivering body. Winter was coming in fast and he didn’t know how he was going to go through another dark, icy season. His mother had been thinking of picking up a third job just to pay for the heat but he wasn’t gonna allow her to work herself dead like that. He’d have to find something himself to help around even though he already had one. But throwing newspapers at doors wasn’t doing much for him. He didn’t know who would pick up a poor kid but he hoped someone in the city would. He’d even take a pity call even though it would piss him off beyond belief. He wasn’t weak just short of change like every human seemed to be these days.

Sighing under his breath, he glared at the hills that rose above him. They loomed like shadows but Michael didn’t want to take cover under them. Nah, they were fucking disgusting to look at. All of those rich ass people lounging on their opulent furniture and staring up at their chandeliers as maids go to and fro to listen to their every beck and call. It was wrong.

Gathering spit into his mouth, he lobbed it at the ground and smashed the tip of his boot into it. He would kill for a cigarette or a video game to get all that rage out that was stirring harsh and ugly under his fingers but he had to sell all of them when his mother had to take a break from work due to a broken wrist because of some asshole at work who couldn’t do his job.

She had to hold him back from slipping into the night and punching anyone he saw straight in the face. He did, though, go out at night to survey the area and everything was nice and quiet. It was good because this was his turf. This small ass house wasn’t much but it was his. And he’d protect it. Especially from those rich shitheads living up on the hills. They’d take everything he had with barely a nod in his direction and he wasn’t gonna stand for it. 

Clenching his fingers, he shoved them into the torn pockets of his jacket and made his way up the winding streets to the mansion at the tippy top. It was the most expansive and expensive one. Michael’s teeth itched to chop on it, to rip out everything that the owner had. They’d see how hard he could bite, how bad he could snap. And they’d never dare to take anything from him again.

***

Michael paused at the front drive of the mansion, pacing a bit back and forth. He thought over his next course of action. He wanted the person in that place to feel his furry but he didn’t know if he could get the words out. Well, he could always bullshit his way through a story. He was king of that. 

Stepping up to the front stoop, Michael tried to ignore how his ratty shoes stained the fine concrete mixed with the best shit around, all pretty patterns and varying colors. He tried to ignore the gorgeous blues and greens. He did always like blue the best. 

Gathering his wits, he slammed his fist into the door. He didn’t care if he broke it down or his knock was somehow offensive. He had been offended for years. Asshole with the rich mansion needed to get down to his level for once. 

The pure white door swung open and Michael was nearly knocked backwards. 

All he saw was blue. 

And there was a damn lot of it.

The man in front of him was straight from some musician magazine. Tattoos painted his skin and Michael tried hard not to imagine the stories that could possibly be behind them. Rolled up sleeves, baby blue button up, tan slacks and the most fucking ridiculously blue eyes that Michael had ever seen. All Michael saw was fucking blue and he was stuttering out the first thing he could think of.

“I uh…left…my cat’s missing.”

It came out as a terrible mash up of a fake question. 

The man in front of him leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest and peering at Michael with a stare that rooted him to the spot. He didn’t know if he could move off the porch. Didn’t know if he even wanted to. 

“Cat, huh?” Shaking his head, the wondrous man began shutting the door. But he stopped halfway when those eyes of his really took in the kid in front of him. Running a hand down his face, he shook out his already unruly raven hair. “Christ, kid, you need a fucking jacket or something? It’s gonna get icy later.”

It took Michael a few seconds for it register before he was backpedaling quickly. He stepped sluggishly backwards, still caught in that aura that the man in front of him was pumping out in waves. He seemed warm and lovely and Michael wanted to spend years getting wrapped up in it. But he needed to tuck tail and run because the guy was gonna take everything from him and leave cackling up in his mansion, all safe and stupid and what a fucking asshole for trying this shit on him. He wasn’t stupid. No one made a fool of him and got away with it. 

“No, I don’t fucking need anything from you!” Popping out his jacket, Michael soothed the material several times over. He tried not to think of how his hands were shaking as he squared his shoulders and schooled his expression.

But the man in front of him already knew what to look for as if he had been searching for him for years. 

His smirk was deadly as it quirked his lips up. His hands gripped the door until he opened his home up completely for the foolish kid on his doorstep. 

“Right, come in, before your freeze.” He didn’t expect the boy to roll with it at first but the kid was just as defeated as he was. And Michael was cold. Just a bit. So, he stepped over the threshold. “You can stay for just a few minutes while I run up and get you a good coat.”

The man was suddenly too close, all fire smoked wood and lavender soap, as his slender tattooed fingers plucked at the collar of his jacket. Michael stood frozen as the man hovered over him, picking at the holes and the tears. He hummed under his breath before slipping away and up the stairs like smoke. 

Michael’s eyes widened as he took in everything that had just happened. “Fuck, fuck.” He grabbed at his curls, tugging at them. He burned trails in the too rich carpet, not caring that the dirt was ruining the threads. He didn’t give a shit because he was internally combusting. Blue eyes and that damn woodsy smell burned into his retinas and his veins. He would feel this for weeks. Slapping a hand over where his heart was beating way too fast, he willed himself to get his shit together. He was just a guy. A rich fucking guy. A tattooed guy with too much blue. 

“Here, it’ll be big on you but at least you’ll have something.” The jacket in question was shoved into Michael’s views. His hands shook as he took it. His fingers ran over the lining and the expensive materials. It already looked far too warm and smelled too much like backwoods and bonfires. 

“I…” For once, Michael was speechless. Chewing on his bottom lip, he forced himself to continue. “Listen, this is nice and all but I don’t need this. I’ll be fine on my own.” But the man was already shoving him out the front door, coat tucked safely in his hands.

“Shut up, kid. Take it and leave before you give me another heart attack.” Michael didn’t want to mull over how lonely that sentence was and how many a time that same tone drifted in his mind and found a nice home there. “And take this too.” A heavy object was set on top of the jacket piled in his arms. It was a book. Three hundred or so pages worth. Navy blue hard cover with a beautiful hand woven spine. 

“What-?”

“A special offer. On the house. Now get before the ice starts falling.” 

The front door slammed behind him before Michael could bathe in his allure one last time. 

All of the air in Michael’s lungs rushed out. His heart skipped around a few times before it stopped. Mind racing, thoughts gone, he stumbled down the driveway with the items tucked securely in his arms. 

He rushed home, too eager to even think of how pathetic he was. The first he did was jump on to his bed and press the fabric of the jacket to his nose. Fucking woods. He wondered if the man had gone backtracking in the woods for fun just to get that wonderful smell on him or what. But he didn’t really care because it smelled delicious. Keeping the jacket close, he picked up the book from where he had thrown it on to his bed.

He was an occasional reader, too picky to read just anything. He wanted something that got him thinking and got his mind off of what he was dealing with. It sounded simple. Anything would do the trick but he still had a tough palette. 

Cracking the book open, he ran his fingers along the title page. The title was typed in slanted handwriting, seemingly nonchalant but a title was always just as meaty as the novel itself. The name rolled around in his head but he couldn’t quite latch on to it. It was something that deserved more than just a few seconds of pondering. Peering at the author’s name below, he gasped when he recognized it as the name sprawled in the engraving above the front door. Ramsey. Geoff Ramsey to be exact. 

The guy with tattoos and blue eyes and woodsy smells was a fucking writer. The guy was a shaken up bottle with enigma foam. Michael wouldn’t even care if he choked on it on first sip. He didn’t care if he fucked died by it. He was already turning the page to the first chapter, digging into the story like he had never had before.

And he didn’t care if the world was gonna end because he was going to slip out at night and get himself another novel written and thought up by the enigma himself. So help him God, he was gonna shove all of his previous hatred and weariness aside because a rich guy in the biggest mansion didn’t just write novels and look like that. There was something more and it seemed like Geoff himself was a novel. 

And Michael was never going to put him down. 

***

It was in the middle of the night. Michael’s home was one story so it was easy to push open his window and slip out into the night. It was slippery from the ice that had fallen in sheets a few hours before and his shoes weren’t good for traction. He used the house as leverage as he skated across the side yard to the streets beyond. 

He walked across the pavement carefully, stepping on the pockets of salt and gravel that littered the road. When he got to the streets that winded up the hill to Geoff’s place, he tried his hardest not to fall straight backwards and down the hill. He’d loose his goddamn head and he didn’t really want to explain to his mother why his brain cells were smashed on the pavement. 

Shaking his head, he focused back on the task at hand. Going slow, he managed to trek his way up the hill. Once he was at the top, he slipped into the shadows and ran for the backyard. He looked around for any doors that he could jostle open or pick open. What surprised him, though, was a slightly ajar window on the first floor of the grand home. 

He didn’t think that Geoff was stupid. No, the words and the thoughts that he put together in his novels screamed at how intelligent he could be. Well, maybe he wasn’t street smart. But Michael was. 

Ducking low, he crept up to the window. Shoving his hands underneath it, he pushed up and smiled when it gave easily without a single creak. There were a lot of good things, apparently, when it came to mansions. Every part of it was immaculate and not a single touch of old was in anything.

Slipping through the window, Michael planted his hands on to the wooden floor beneath and scooted his legs out until he could somersault over. He landed with a thud on to the floor, his skin catching on the carpet and skidding him forward. Once his body settled, he peered around the pitch dark room and sighed when nothing else in the home stirred. He hoped that since the mansion was so huge that his landing didn’t echo far. At least he hoped.

Scrambling to his feet, he padded over to the window and shut it. Blowing hot air into his hands, he rubbed them together as he surveyed the room. He had managed to topple into the right one despite how many rooms there were. At least it wasn’t something boring like a dining room. 

No, this was a library. The room itself was as big as his house. Delicately carved and curved shelves lined every wall. Every one was filled to the brim with books and movies. Stepping over to the wall to his left, he let his fingers hover over the spines as he stared at every one. They seemed to call to him, their loneliness beckoning for a hand to reach for them and to cradle their words to a beating heart. They were in order of color, their varying hues slightly visible in the dark. 

The sudden flicker of a light in the hallway startled him. The open room had no door so light poured into the room, illuminating Michael’s form.

He had no chance to stutter out another lame excuse before Geoff entered the room. 

He was wearing sweatpants, tied loosely at the front. The button up was gone and in its place a ratty shirt from his college days. His left hand clutched a clinking glass of whiskey while the other froze mid-air.

“You know that window was open for any stray cats. Didn’t think you’d be coming through, though.”

It was a throwback to early and Michael almost felt sick at how much joy he got from Geoff remembering him even though the encounter wasn’t long enough ago for it to be a struggle. Shoving his hands into his armpits, he frowned and Geoff really didn’t like how it carved up his face. 

“Right,” Geoff puffed out before flipping on the table light to the left of the doorway. Michael looked pathetic now bathed in two different lights, one bright as fuck and the other dimmed down low. Michael tried not to shiver as Geoff plopped on to the couch shoved against the bookshelf next to the table light. “You gonna join me or what?”

It was a fucked up offer, honestly. Michael had, essentially, broke into the older male’s home and now he was coaxing him in like a siren. And poor Michael was a sucker for lullabies especially when spoken by a strange accented voice that cracked and crackled its way through his defenses like he was paper.

His steps were careful as he stepped across the carpet and over to the couch. Sinking down on to the plush fabric, Michael tried not relax against it in fear that he would fall straight through the floor.

“Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he pounded his fist weakly against his jean covered thigh. “Fucking sorry about crashing your party.”

Geoff shrugged, all nonchalant and loose limbed. Even his eyes were as sleepy and laid back as his movements. Sipping at the whiskey, Geoff set the glass down and reached behind him for another hard cover book without its sleeve.

“Shut up and read this.” Throwing it on to Michael’s lap, he chuckled when the boy jumped. “God, kid, settle down. I’m not gonna murder you. Not the type.”

Raising an eyebrow at the older male, Michael slowly took the book as if it would reach up and snap at him. “Not the type, huh?”

“Do you think that I would lace the pages with poison or some shit?” Shaking his head, Geoff seemed to sink into his thoughts as he stared out the only window in the room, the same exact one that Michael slipped through. “That’s a good book title, though. I’m real fucking good at that shit. Ideas? Not so much.”

The room got heated up with tension and something else that Michael couldn’t name. But it felt too much like covered up anger and a need for redemption. He didn’t know what bullshit Geoff was carrying and he was almost scared to step into a close friendship with someone he had just met just like that. Like a snap of their fingers, they were tied together and he really didn’t know if he wanted to drown with Geoff just yet.

Geoff seemed to realize the boundary lines as he leaned over his knees, tattooed arms swinging back and forth. Cracking his fingers, he let his gaze fall to the swirly patterns of the red and gold carpet. 

“Sorry. I get kinda heavy at night. Nightmares, you know?” 

Michael wanted to agree but once again Geoff had made him speechless. 

Instead, he turned his focus to the book in his hands. He had finished the one that Geoff had given him earlier in the night. It had taken him hours but it was worth every weary bone and red eye he got.

Geoff seemed to know that the conversation was dead as he too grabbed a book from the shelves. It was worn and tattered and Michael wondered how many times he thumbed through it and how many different ways he saw it each time he read it over again.

The two males shook their heads at the same time, each of them delving into their respective stories. It was sweet, the silence shared between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable and Michael slowly found himself relaxing into the couch and the world that he was being transported in.

It was weird to be sitting next to the man who crafted it. But Michael had given up caring about the logistics. Soon enough, though, his eyes were slipping closed and his head was leaning back to rest against the back of the couch. 

Geoff watched him slip away to dream land, an amused twinkle in his eye. He couldn’t help but let his thoughts go wild about the boy next to him. The kid was something else. 

Geoff was wealthy with money. But Michael was rich in everything else. He was what he was missing.

Michael had came in like a windstorm and he got caught it in it.

And he really didn’t care where Michael threw him in the end. 

Because he had a moment with him and that was enough to soothe the nightmares. Instead of seeing her face, he saw bright brown eyes, muddy with so much fierce emotion that it felt raw and real. He hadn’t ever thought he wouldn’t stop feeling like a ghost. But here Michael was, as real as anything else. 

Geoff wanted to wax poetry about the kid with the curls, the adorable dimples, the blinding smile and the beautiful, unique way he looked and lived and spoke and breathed. But there couldn’t be any words because Michael was wordless. There wasn’t a description that could compare. A puzzle. 

Geoff could spend years decoding it.

He could spend years fishing for answers. 

Because Michael was richer then anything else in this world. 

And damn did he want him to be his. 

A forever kind of thing. 

He never wanted this novel to end.


	3. long hours and pale complexions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ray have been together forever. But how it began and ended was a tricky thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of character death
> 
> Recipient: anonymous 
> 
> Three words: swing, breath, hand
> 
> Pairing: raychael (Ray/Michael)
> 
> Setting: Some small town out there where Ray and Michael knew each other since childhood and have loved each other forever.

He was swinging on that tire swing, brown curls bouncing and smile wide. When he laughed, the younger boy could have sworn that the stars dimmed a little. Cliche as fuck. This was the reason he didn’t want to show the older boy his music, that secret side of him that was a hopelessly romantic wanderer. Swing, swing. He could hear the whoosh of the wind against his clothes and he wondered what it would feel like to stop the swing and to touch the skin that only the wind could kiss. But that would be odd. But gee wasn’t that who they were?

He couldn’t help his smile. It was not a grin, no too soft. It was not a grin, no too small. But it was enough for the older boy to stop his laughter, to train those glowing brown eyes of his on the younger boy. Brown. Everything was brown but that wasn’t the right color to describe the warmth he permitted. Orange brown, kind of murky like muddy water but orange still like a raging tiger stripe or a budding marigold in his garden. 

The younger boy hoped that the other couldn’t see the devastation inside his eyes and he hoped he couldn’t hear the thumping of his heart. Swing, swing. The swing teetered back and forth, forgotten and left for the wind to take as the two boys met on the ground below and cast their hearts into the grass and forgot everything about loneliness. No, that wasn’t allowed here. 

Michael was laughing now but not aloud. No, he was giggling against Ray’s mouth and Ray, well, all he could do was press harder against the older boy until they were both lying down. Tangled in each other. Swing, swing. Whoosh, whoosh. The sounds were just a background noise to the sinking that they were doing. Down, down into each other. 

“Take my hand.” It was just a breath of a whisper against his cheek. Ray shivered but he managed to get everything in check to reach out for Michael’s hand laid flat on the grass. 

The two boys didn’t understand the severity of the statement. The implications were harsh. A sweet beginning but a terrible end.

***

“Take my hand, Michael!”

They were running down the hallways after school. They had been kissing each other and getting lost in the moment in one of the empty classrooms up on the second floor. But a teacher passed by and spotted them. It was so hard to let go of each other even though their hearts were pounding fast and their legs were itching to run. 

Ray had a pair of legs on him. Michael didn’t know how it was possible when he only moved an inch from the floor to his bed every day. But he was running faster, panting hard. And Michael couldn’t keep up. 

“Michael, you need to work out more,” Ray teased.

“Says the fuck face who doesn’t move all day!” Michael exclaimed. 

Ray’s choppy laughter sliced him up, left him to cook as the younger male took a sharp left. Michael’s ratty shoes skidded across the tile and he could feel himself meeting his maker but a hand caught his own. Warm and enticing, skin on skin. His boy dragged him up, held him close and pulled him along. 

Michael could barely even breathe now as they neared the back doors of the school. If they could make it, they could hop the fence and take the route through the park to his house. 

But Ray was fading away in the distance, just a blur. 

Michael’s heart stopped as a single thought knocked his brain off kilter.

I never want to see you go. 

And it hurt. It fucking stung. Pressing a hand against his heart, he wondered if he would feel flames licking at his skin. Heart caught asunder and burned in a pyre. This felt like his end, like Ray was his keeper but his killer. 

Michael didn’t know the word for it. It stuck in a ball in his throat, refused to be untangled. 

And, besides, he didn’t want to dwell on it because Ray was here in front of him. He wasn’t gone so there wasn’t anything to worry about. They were crashing through the doors. Together. They were still together. And they were running towards the fence, Ray sensing his plan and going with it like he knew he would. 

Michael shoved every thought aside and focused on Ray. 

On what was right in front of him (but not for long). 

***

“This was a stupid fucking idea and I blame you.”

It was sweet how Ray hated him in that moment but no one could really blame Michael for being adventurous as well as downright stupid. All of his ideas were shoddy to begin with and, hey, Ray was also stupid for going along with it.

See, there town was ancient and a lot of the buildings were dilapidated. It was the perfect concussion for a ghostly encounter. Michael liked the paranormal, always found the whole thing interesting. Ray didn’t care either way. He just wanted to be with Michael so he tagged along. Big mistake. 

They were in an abandoned firearm factory. It could have merely been their imagination but they swore they heard the pops of the bullets. It felt like they were in one of their silly video games. Reality was always the hardest thing to believe. 

“I don’t like this, Michael.”

Ray had tried to be joking at first but even he started to feel the aura of the place. It was sinking into his soul and he didn’t like how it squeezed him. He felt like a cork ready to pop. Michael, for once, was the nonchalant one. He was even quiet. When, then, did they switch places?

“Don’t be a pussy, Ray.”

Michael climbed up the rickety and rusted staircase to the second floor. He paused on the landing, crouching down in the corner to pick at the random objects that were thrown there or placed there deliberately. Picking up a black and white photo, he tilted it this way and that, watching as the light caught the people’s smiles and lit them up. 

“I’m out. Peace.”

Ray descended the staircase, jumping on to the safe ground below. He booked it to the front door and left Michael behind. Panting, he bent over and clutched at his knees. 

He didn’t expect his scream. 

“Ray!”

He had heard Michael yell a thousand times. Anger came so easily. He was a loud person and Ray absolutely loved how he filled the dreaded silence. 

But this wasn’t a scream, a typical holler. 

Ray ran back into the building, throwing himself into running as fast and as hard as he could. He found Michael at the bottom of the steps to the second floor. He was shaken up and his whole body seemed to tremble. 

“Michael, come on, give me your hand,” Ray pleaded. But Michael wasn’t with him. Grabbing Michael by his shoulders, Ray managed to drag him far enough away from the steps to where the moment popped and it was gone. Shaking his head violently back and forth, Michael breathed in deep and struggled to grasp Ray’s hands. 

Hold on. 

Never let go.

After that, they never returned. 

But Michael will never forget the faces in those photos and how their fate seemed much too like his own finale. 

***

Michael had a reason to fear this whole time. 

***

They had been kids once. 

They swung on swings, ran through parks, planted gardens, kissed in empty classrooms, hopped fences, dared each other, etc, etc. 

And yet through all that there were a few things that remained a constant. 

Except they weren’t kids anymore. 

And nothing had carried over from when they were young and in love.

Those days were gone.

And all was left was a black and white photo thrown carelessly (possibly deliberately) in a corner of an abandoned building, at the top of a second story landing of a firearms factory where there was an explosion, a pop, and a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the photo Michael saw in the firearms factory was of the two of them. Let's just say that they were alive when the factory was still around. Michael's mind refuses to remember in detail how they died and I rather not force it.


	4. prayers for rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The poet, W. H. Auden, wrote, ‘Evil is unspectacular, and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our table.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** There are violent crimes mentioned in this story. The crime is spoken of as vaguely and without as much detail as possible.
> 
>  **Important:** /// = a change in time in which we go back into the past
> 
> Chapter title: Prayers for Rain by The Cure
> 
> Recipient: exinspired on tumblr + firebornaustrian/remember-the-mole on tumblr
> 
> Three words: rebel, number, train + fate, crimson, memory
> 
> Pairing: Geoffray (Geoff/Ray) + Joelay (Joel/Ray)
> 
> Setting: Joel and Michael are profilers or those who get inside the minds of criminals in order to catch them. Ray and Geoff play an unknown role.

He was on his fifth cup of coffee, staring at the board of photos in front of him. Every single one of them had a too obvious connection. Their physical features illuminated in front of him. A calling beacon, sweeping the scene. Brown hair, brown eyes, glasses. Male. Late teens, early twenties. 

A man was killing all of them but for what? A deranged human searching for the one he could never retain. A twisted fairy tale gone awry. 

He took their lives with someone else’s face superimposed over their wide eyed faces filled with such terror, such raw sadness. Tears dried. Crimson smeared on their cheeks. Hand prints on their necks. Who did he see in their eyes, in the way that they gasped for breath, in the way they pleaded?

Did he kill this special person too? Or was he something that he couldn’t touch no matter how many people he took in his name?

Oh, sweet, love, come home.

It was clear what could have drove the two apart. 

And it was right then and there that the federal agent glanced to his hands that were now shaking, rattling the coffee around and splashing his skin. Hot. A stinging flashback. 

The coffee tumbled to the ground, splashing on to the carpet.

Because he knew someone who fit right in with the other victims. He had tried his hardest not to profile the boy who he had just began dating but there was something there that tied it all together. 

Would he be a psycho, too, if he connected his newfound love as the lover that got away?

He didn’t know if he could be the knight in shining armor here.

But with a drizzle comes a downpour.

***

_“I have to give some bullshit advice to some shitty cops out in Texas. You think you’re gonna be alright having Joel over?”_

Rolling his eyes, Ray pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the coffee table. Picking up his controller, he focused his eyes back on the video game playing out on the television screen in front of him.

“I’m still confused as to why I need a babysitter, Michael.”

_“You fucking live with a crime fighting asshole. All criminals are going to be hounding after you.”_

Chuckling, Ray moved his character behind a barricade before saying, “I’m not surprised they want this fine ass. Yours, however, is a bit bony.”

_“Bony?! I’ll have you know, Ray, that my ass is pure gold, here. The finest quality.”_

“Whatever you say, man, but listen I’m sure that I know enough from you to know how to handle my own.” Ray’s lips quirked up in a minuscule smirk that was loud in its intentions. 

_“But still.”_

And that was Michael, somehow still a sweetheart, all gooey and soft, despite the hard work as a profiler. He had seen so many crime scenes, had seen a countless number of victim’s eyes follow him into his nightmares. Ray didn’t understand how Michael was capable of dealing with it.

“Alright, alright, when is this guy coming over?”

_“By three at the latest. Although, he might have cases that he’ll need to write up so he may be over late.”_

“You do know that he’s a cop too, right? Like, I’m sure criminals are gonna want him more,” Ray reminded. Chewing on his hoodie strings, he paused the game and switched to another one. The achievements in that one were getting a bit mundane and he wasn’t in the mood for grinding one out. Maybe when this mystery federal agent came over he could grind and talk, that way it wouldn’t be as boring. 

_“Yeah, but he’s a federal agent, Ray! I trust him with a gun more than you anyway.”_

Pressing a hand to his chest, Ray pouted. Speaking around the plastic covered string in his mouth, he said, “I’m damn good at one thank you very much.”

_“I’m pretty sure COD doesn’t count in real life.”_

Shrugging, Ray set down his controller and stood up from the chair. Walking over to the kitchen, he grabbed a red bull and cracked the top. “It does to me. But, yeah, Michael, I guess I’ll be fine here. Have fun spitting at people.”

_“Eh, they’ll enjoy it. And you too, Ray.” ___

Ray ended the call after that lull in the conversation. But a knock on the door made his head snap up. Narrowing his eyes, he peered around the apartment before rising from the couch. Inching towards the door, he hesitated in opening it. 

“It’s me, Joel. Michael, he, uh, sent me over here?”

Sighing, Ray crossed his arms across his chest. “Sounds like a likely story.”

The man on the other side of the door laughed, the sound high pitched despite the gravel tone of his voice. “Yeah, I can see why you wouldn’t open up. I got my badge, though?”

Sipping at his red bull, Ray pursed his lips and slid the lock out from the door. 

“Alright, stalker, let me see that shiny badge.” The man’s chuckle was piercing. It reverberated deep and if Ray rubbed his chest, well, that was just something natural that he couldn’t help. 

The man smirked, something up turned on the left and down on the right. He flashed his badge. Ray took in his name, let it rattle around in his head, perfecting the curl of the syllables before letting it out like a well practiced song, “Joel Heyman, huh?”

Joel pointed his finger in Ray’s face, his eyes doing an odd mix between a squint and a wide eyed, dazed stare. “Don’t do any jokes. I’ve heard them all.”

“Really?” Spinning on his heel, Ray entered the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Joel slipped into the apartment, kicking the door shut with the tip of his boot. Under the bright kitchen lights, the older male seemed to shine like a ready made star. Born and raised. Ray was unsure if he could stand with him in his spotlight or if it was better to look and not touch.

“Michael warned me you would try, though.” Joel shrugged, an easy roll of the shoulders. His arms swung by his sides, restless. He scratched at his scruff that looked like days long then through his hair which Ray knew was months in the making. 

“Got a barber in that big bad plane of yours?” Ray questioned, one eyebrow raised. 

There was a stand off in the kitchen. 

They both had shit in their arsenal. 

A profiler against one who was quiet, an observer.

“It’s not a…bad plane per say,” Joel tried. Then, he sighed, long and drawn out, throwing his hands about in a way that left Ray frazzled. “You win.”

Ray didn’t even cheer but his smile was the brightest it had ever been. Joel felt like he should have been warned about the damages a beautiful kid like him could cause. Next time he heard from Michael, boy, would the younger male get an earful.

“Hey man do you want a soda? Hey man do you play games?” Ray rattled off and on for a better part of a minute before he did his final one as loud as he could. “Hey man would you blow me?”

Joel’s laugh this time was as loud as Michael’s but it somehow leaked its way into Ray’s subconscious. Michael’s only echoed. Joel’s had razor sharp teeth. “Blowing costs extra. Doesn’t cost much for a kiss, though.” 

Scoffing, Ray fluttered his eyelashes. His chuckle this time was sweet, dicing Joel up quite nicely. He was like vanilla cream, a sugar high. Joel never wanted to come down from it. “A kiss, huh?”

Before Joel could blink, Ray crashed into his side, creeping up on his tip toes to press a kiss to Joel’s jaw, scruff meeting chapped pink lips. It was the sweetest of exchanges. Ray dashed away before Joel could catch him. The boy was acting like nothing ever happened as he returned to his video game. 

And Joel was stuck there, dumbfounded.

They remained in their separate spaces after that. A fine line between them.

Joel had brought over files from the office. Work always went over into play. There certainly wasn’t any down time when it came to criminals and catching them. He was flicking through files and stealing the laptop off the kitchen counter to type up some reports. Ray remained in the living room, clicking away and muttering under his breath from time to time. 

Oddly enough, despite the clear boundary line and the repetition of earlier events in each of their heads, it wasn’t awkward. 

But Joel was sick of standing around and doing work. Curious, he trailed around the kitchen, knocking open cabinets and peering into their pathetically empty souls. His frown was carved deep into his face as he gathered his keys and chanced a glance at the distracted boy in the living room. Rubbing at his jaw, he revealed his intentions.

“I’m gonna head out, get something for this, uh…shit stack of food products you have.”

“Is it raining out?”

But Ray already knew.

He had been watching the droplets out the living room windows whenever there was a lull in his game. Their droplets slid down the glass in easy patterns, droplets fusing together to form a river. He once thought that he could get lost in their journey down, down but now all he saw were blue eyes reflected back and Hell at the end. 

So why did he ask again?

“Uh…yeah, it’s raining. You need to take a break before your eyes pop out.”

It was supposed to be funny, a charge to ease the strange aura in the room but Ray was making it harder every single second that ticked nearer and nearer to that fated hour.

“Good idea. I’ll come with.”

Ray didn’t know when these words entered his head. He didn’t know what he was doing as he paused the game and let his eyes slip to Joel. He was standing in the doorway, keys dangling from his middle fingers. His eyes were impossibly brown, dark and lush and expressive, taking in everything about Ray. Man, he’d never want to be a killer. Under that gaze, he’d tell Joel everything, even the most seemingly insignificant things. And that was bad. That was the gateway, what started it all. And, really, was Joel any different?

“Right. Well, come on.”

Joel hurried him along but Ray was fine with that. The older male made easy conversation. He commented on everything and Ray found that he could laugh and smile and joke around too. Joel made it seem so simple. But that was the thing. The thing that made this so fucking wrong. 

Joel was a profiler and it never took him long to catch a detail, to connect things together. He always tried his hardest not to profile people but it was always the worse when they were in distress. Joel tried the first thing that came to mind. Not always the best but his thoughts were too scrambled anyway. 

“Hold on.” Before Ray could protest, Joel shoved him into a small shop downtown just a few blocks ahead of the corner store. 

He watched Ray’s eyes take in the rows and rows of flowers, all the variety and their vibrancy. He looked for the little signs and when Ray’s eyes flickered just a bit and stayed on a particular kind for longer than the others, he took note. By the time Ray had surveyed the flower shop, Joel was already at the cash register. 

“For my lady.” Joel even bowed as he handed it over. A single rose. Ray could get lost for hours in its swirls. Holding the petals gingerly up to his nose, Ray’s eyes fell shut and Joel smiled, wide and genuine, at the way the boy finally relaxed. Ray forget about rain and blue eyes and the time. All he saw was red and Joel on the other side. 

“Thanks..a lot for this, Joel.” Ray twirled the flower in slow waves, watching as the colors swirled. Joel hovered close to him, his hands twitching at his sides before he bent down and pressed his lips to the younger male’s cheek. The heat that bloomed in its wake could never compare to the rich red of a rose but combined, they made a luscious crimson.

“Always.”

His breath cooled the spot on his cheek. Ray seemed to bundle himself together as he brought his hoodie sleeves to cover the skin. Joel chuckled, a sound residing somewhere deep and undercover. 

And, really, ocean waves and a sprawling sky could never compare to getting stuck in soil. 

It was in his best interest, anyway, to choose to bloom rather than to drown. 

***

Joel made him forget what was stored previously in his mind. Short term memory, long term memory. It didn’t matter how long all those bits stuck around because they weren’t there when he was with Joel. 

It was five in the afternoon but Ray wasn’t playing video games and waiting away in the corner of the room where it was darkest. 

Instead, he was lying down on the couch with Joel sprawled out on the chair next to him. The rose was on the table, soaking up the water in the vase that Ray had managed to dig out from the hall closet. Unopened plastic bags were left for another time on the counter. Open boxes of Chinese were sprawled from the table to the floor. 

Ray knocked the chopsticks in his mouth around as Joel flicked through the channels. He landed on one in particular, his body seeming to explode with excitement as he turned up the volume. Quirking an eyebrow, Ray pulled the chopsticks out of his mouth and stabbed at a noodle.

“Stocks?” It was a guess but Joel nodded enthusiastically as he soaked up the information. “Is this what you do when you’re not catching weirdos?”

“Some of them have mental disorders. Almost all have had previous trauma. Stressors.” Joel stuck out his tongue, eyes squinting up as he caught the information coming out of the speakers. Frowning, he turned down the volume and sunk back into the chair. “And some are shit at stocks.” Clicking through the channels, he settled on a sports channel and turned his gaze to Ray.

The younger male was watching him curiously, eyeing him up and down. “You know…you have odd interests.”

“What, stocks and catching criminals doesn’t turn you on?” Joel questioned. His face scrunched up as he bitterly added, “Doesn’t turn anyone on.”

Ray seemed to have hit a sore spot. Setting the chopsticks back into the box, he sat up on the couch. “Okay, I give up.”

“With what?” Joel asked but Ray was already standing and heading for the freezer.

“We have vanilla ice cream, rocky road and, uh, some vodka and, oh, hey, whiskey. Michael would be pissed if you took that.” Bringing out the bottle, Ray stared at the amber liquid with disgust. “Although, all the more reason to chug it.”

Joel sat there. 

Two seconds.

Five.

Then, a smile, bright and all canines stitched his face up with a strange kind of brightness that Ray was sure that he was never gonna find again.

“Bring the whiskey. Got any coke?” Joel clambered to sit up, moving around until he was leaning over the back of the chair. Stretching out his arms, he made grabby hands at Ray who was swinging around the bottle of whiskey as he opened the fridge door.

“Are we blazing it now?” Ray teased as he reached for a coke shoved in the back of the fridge. 

“Funny, funny, so goddamn fucking funny, Ray. God, I’m in stitches right now. Busting at the seams. Like falling-.”

Rolling his eyes, Ray shoved the coke can and the whiskey into Joel’s hands. “Okay, okay, fucking here.” Shaking his head, he stepped back into the kitchen to grab himself a cream soda. Cracking the top, he gulped down the bubbly sweetness. 

“No glass?”

Hanging his head, Ray sighed and turned back to the kitchen. “A child. A goddamn, ugly, stupid-.”

“Hey! I’m handsome thank you very much,” Joel exclaimed. His pout was turned on high as he whined at the younger male for being cruel. Ray’s laugh was choppy but the way it sliced the air made Joel breathless. 

“You’re swimming in a hoodie and old jeans from like your college days probably! How fucking old are you again?” Ray wondered as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet above the stove. Running over to the living room, he slid on to the carpet and set the glass on the ground. Joel’s pout slipped further down his face as he reached for the glass.

Tipping the coke into the glass, Joel grumbled out, “You…you don’t need to know that.”

Stealing the remote, Ray switched the television off and turned on his console. Turning on two controllers, he handed one to Joel. “But it’s relevant.”

Scoffing, Joel added the whiskey, saying, “To whom?”

“To who? You. I. We. Everyone.” Ray’s arms were in theatrical mode as they gestured everywhere. Joel’s head spun as he tried to catch every movement.

“Too old.” The way Joel knocked back the bottle of whiskey and coke like he was born doing it despite the burn made Ray believe it. “Job makes me older.”

Knocking his cream soda into the glass clutched tightly in Joel’s hands, Ray nodded.

“Cheers to that. Now, wanna play some co-op?”

Joel had never agreed to anything faster.

***

Hours later, Ray was slipping between dream land and reality as Joel pounded his ass in Halo. He apparently lived in Halo when he was in college. Ray took that as a challenge but it was one that lasted for hours. 

They were competitive, inching closer and closer to the television screen as if that would give them that extra edge. Soon enough, they were sitting side by side, knee pressed to knee, eyes glued to the screen. Once and a while, there’d be a shove or two or a swat of a hand. It was only Ray’s luck that Joel hadn’t figured out how ticklish he was. But their playful game was interrupted by the shrill ring of Joel’s phone. 

It shocked Ray enough that it wasn’t five in the afternoon anymore. It was ten at night and he had never seen time fly be so much before. He had never cared so little before.

Joel reached over to the chair, pulling out his phone from in between the cushions. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, he answered it. “This is Heyman.”

_“There’s a reason they brought me up here, Joel. God, they’re fucking idiots.”_

Michael sure knew how to be blunt but Joel would never expect anything less from his younger coworker.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Joel paused the game and set his controller down. Leaning back against the coffee table, he plucked at the loose strings of his jeans. “What happened, Michael?”

_“There’s a case up here.”_

“You have full capability of handling some of it on your own, Michael.” Joel leaned over his knees, skimming his fingers along the carpet. Ray watched the way they moved nimbly, a tattoo gleaming. Curling into a tight ball, he snapped his gaze back to the television screen. One tattoo. He could deal with a tattoo.

_“I know but…Joel, listen, I’m gonna send you the files of the victims. Don’t freak out, okay?”_

“You’re telling me not to freak?” Joel was comically baffled, wide eyes and mouth.

_“Yeah but, the victims…just, I’m sending the photos now.”_

Joel’s phone beeped, flashing blue against the skin of his ear. Sighing, he clicked through his phone until he found the photos. Downloading them, he tapped his fingers against his knees. When they loaded on his screen, he almost froze. Keeping his composure, he remained statuesque, trying so hard not to piece it together and jump to conclusions. He couldn’t make this case personal no matter how many threads were connected.

“Michael.”

Joel’s voice was clipped.

_“Joel.”_

Michael’s was urgent.

And neither of them knew what to do.

Clicking the speaker button, Joel set the phone on the stand that the television was on. It seemed like the phone was scrutinizing Ray and he’d never be able to tell its next move.

His finger’s slipped on the buttons of the controller. He tried to keep himself from shaking but Joel was squinting at him and Michael was breathing hard over the line.

“What?” Ray questioned. 

“The first thing you do when you start a case is-.”

“Is to look at the victims. You have to ask yourself why. Why did they choose this victim at this time? Was anything done to provoke or was their target weak or was it a causality of circumstance?” Ray rattled off. 

For once, Michael didn’t cheer with pride. He remained all too silent as he listened to the exchange, waiting with bated breath to see if Ray connected the threads together too.

“That’s right.” Joel’s voice was soft like the gentle ting of a wind chime that came with an even softer breeze. “Do you see anything in these pictures that could answer any of those questions?”

Joel pulled up the photos again. He tried to keep his eyes on Ray’s face but it was so hard when the same features were right there in front of him. Brown hair, brown eyes, glasses. Male. Late teens to early twenties. 

Ray was sick of being the one chased. 

He didn’t say a word as he stood up from the couch and headed to his bedroom. Kneeling next to the nightstand, he took out the video game case in the middle. Tetris. Cracking the case open, he shook out the tiny slips of paper. Gathering them together, he stared at the words, shoving them together and a part before bringing them with him to the living room. One by one, he set them on the table.

Joel read them off to Michael, his eyes watching Ray carefully.

“Rebel. Five. Train. Rain.”

The younger male in turn put the pieces together with the files of the case that he had conjured up. 

With a beaming grin, he spoke, _“Guys, I think we have our killer.”_

**///**

Ray was watching the clock tick down. The numbers seemed to blur as he rocked back and forth on his heels. It was five in the afternoon but his sleep schedule was fucked due to picking up jobs at a local bar up in New York as a busboy. Picking up after drunks wasn’t what he imagined for himself but it was money and video games was not. 

Sighing, he watched as his breath swirled in front of him. The icy temperature whipped against his poor excuse of a jacket. He didn’t have much anymore. A friend. A console. A shit job. A failure. 

Geoff knew how to pick them. 

“Hey, buddy, know what time the train comes in?”

It was a simple question so Ray chomped on it, took the bait. Geoff tried to hide his smirk. Instead, he leveled the boy and his sweet dark brown eyes with a sleepy stare, all laid back and nonchalant. It was an easygoing nature, one that too many people fell for.

“About five ten but I think they’re running late.” Ray stuck a thumb at where the train was supposed to be coming up but there was nothing there. Geoff turned his head to look at where he pointed, frowning. Digging the tip of his shoe into the dirt, he sighed.

“Well, that sucks. ’S like they don’t know that we got lives of our own.”

Ray didn’t have anything much to add so he remained silent. Geoff’s frown settled right and perfect on his lips, like slipping into a mask. 

“You okay, buddy?”

He honed in on Ray’s weakness like a searchlight. 

And Ray, poor kid, trembled and shivered under his gaze, blushing all the way. 

“I’m fine. Just…life’s a lot of shit, you know?”

Geoff cackled, something scratchy and warm. It sunk into Ray’s bones, made him melt like shiny gold. Geoff gathered it in his hands and made himself a crown.

“I know that feeling bad.”

“Glad to know I’m not alone, then.” 

It was a solemn sentence, one that made Geoff frigid. The kid was a spell all his own. Geoff had never met someone like him. Easy, quiet, vulnerable but delicious in its concoction. The finest drink. He imagined what it would taste like on his tongue. Warm cinnamon. Mixed with whiskey, it’d be the best thing he’d ever drink.

“So, where are you heading exactly?”

“Texas.”

Michael had ranted to Ray a thousand times not to give away his location or anything about him to any stranger. The older male had sat him down and ranted to him about the things that he had learned while working up to his job currently as a profiler. Everything he knew Ray knew too. Every case and nightmare. Every bit of past that they hid from anyone else. 

And, really, there was no way Ray could hide anything from one of the men that worked the case of the death of his mother, his last living relative.

But she was at peace now. 

And Ray was not nor ever will be.

“Texas, huh? Been there many a time. I live there now, actually.”

The conversation turned idle. Ray wished that he was a profiler, to see if the man next to him knew how to lie like he did. But he didn’t think that the man next to him would ever be capable of killing or kidnapping or anything extremely dangerous. There was something about him that screamed at him and his mother always did tell him to follow his instincts.

So, when the train finally pulled up, he offered to sit next to the older male. He didn’t tell much, just the little things. They got into the topic of video games and writing about them. That spun them around to Geoff and the man was a hundred times more open than Ray was. 

He could hear the solemn tone of his voice, how lonely he seemed to be, and the twinkle and burn in his eye when Ray listened intently instead of brushing him off. It was something that Ray had seen reflected back in himself many a time. 

The only other person he spoke to was Michael and his console when he was fucking up hard on a grind or an achievement. But having this man around was a new, vibrant experience. And he loved the man’s blue eyes, how they watched him with a heady but gentle, soothing stare. And the tattoos that lined his skin with stories like a winding tale of a perfectly made video game. He wondered what kind of main character Geoff was. But those thoughts stopped dead when Geoff placed a warm hand over his own. 

“Name’s Geoff.”

Ray raised a single eyebrow, searching for ill intent but finding none, he decided that answering back would be harmless. “Ray.”

Geoff smiled, something bright and uncatchable. “Like a ray of sunshine.”

And would Ray, really, be a fool to fall for someone new?

He smiled, bashful and small. A timid little thing that Geoff wanted to see amplified. 

“That’s gay as fuck but, uh, thanks. You’re a charmer, you know?”

“I’m a man of many wonders.”

He shrugged it off so easily.

Like waves crashing in.

Ray was being pulled under.

But he didn’t exactly know how familiar the hands that were holding him down were.

***

Geoff’s apartment was even warmer than his gaze. 

Ray shrugged off his hoodie, setting it neatly on the back of the only chair in the little studio apartment. He looked around, eyes taking in everything and imagining himself in their places. 

When he looked back to where Geoff was, he smiled when he saw him sitting down on a mattress with shoddy box springs, leaning back against the wall with a novel in his lap. Ray wandered to him so easily, sitting down on the end of the bed so he could grab the controller and start up a game. 

“You know your gamerscore is pretty lacking.”

And that was all Geoff got before the kid was off on his own, getting into games that he knew the achievement list by heart. The tattered novel in Geoff’s hands slipped out of his heavy grip. Instead, he found himself a new novel, a new genre all its own. 

The boy was something different. He wasn’t an open book. He didn’t know the beginning. No, he had crash landed into the middle. He just hoped that he’d stick around for the ending. 

Things came easy after that. The silence between them was something that wasn’t wrong or uncomfortable. They had spent so many silent nights alone, suffering under the tune of what they could do to fill the quiet. Flipping pages, click of buttons. But how sweet did they sound combined together.

They were able to lean back and let go, for once not a single muscle tense. They fell into a pattern. They slept together on the queen mattress, Ray on his back and Geoff curled into a ball at his side. 

Rising early, Ray would play video games while Geoff slept even more easily to the melodic tune of the pressing buttons and Ray’s comments. Then, during the afternoon, they’d shower together under the all too warm spray, almost slipping down the walls as their eyes fluttered shut to how sleepy it made them. Afterwards, a novel or two, a video game or a few. 

They never delved into anything beyond their hobbies. 

Until one rainy afternoon.

Geoff’s demeanor seemed to switch like the tick of a clock converting to a tok. 

He wasn’t violent by any means so far but it was raining hard and it was five in the afternoon. His voice had gone raw from his harsh screams. It sounded like a siren, whirring inside Ray’s ears. 

The apartment rattled as the older male threw things around the room. Ray managed to slip out of the apartment at a moment where Geoff was in the bathroom, digging through the cabinets for an invisible pill bottle. 

Slipping down the door, Ray gripped his head as the door rattled against his back. There were no neighbors to the left and to the right. A cautionary thing. He should have put the things together. Things don’t just happen like that. 

_“This fucking criminal is a rebel.”_

_Michael was looking at files again even though midnight was closing in and his eyes were already strained from red eye flights and too many cases._

_“Are they different?”_

_“A rebel has many definitions. So does a deviant. So does a criminal.” When Ray simply stared at him, Michael huffed and added, “A rebel is someone who opposes authority. They disobey rules and do not accept normal standards of behavior.”_

Ray wondered in that moment how many rules Geoff had broken, how many normal standards he had disobeyed, how many authority figures he had fought. 

He wondered how many times Geoff had gone into a spiral like this. 

But he wasn’t going to stick around to find out the answers. 

The door shook in warning before it was shoved open. The older male was storming down the hallway, limbs shaking and lips mouthing words that had long since implanted their poison into his mind. 

Ray was left slumped against the opposite wall, head now pounding at the force of the shove. The last thing he saw was the painting on the hallway wall. It was of a train speeding by in the rain, the fog all consuming. A train conductor was hanging out the side. 

But he had the most tremendous blue eyes that he had ever seen.

They followed him into his sleep.

_“Stressors?”_

_“Things that make the criminal out act. A loss of a job or…”_

_And Michael trailed off until Ray’s stare made him pick up the words._

_“Or a loss of love.”_

///

“We’re looking for a white male in his late twenties to thirties. He is a man of authority and he loves to be in control. He’s a leader, a charmer.”

Joel rattled off the information like it had followed him into his nightmares.

Michael picked up where he left off and he desperately tried to ignore how the next bit of information kneaded at his very core.

“All of the victims have the same physical characteristics. Brown hair, brown eyes, glasses and all in their late teens to early twenties. Because of the consistent victim ideology, we believe that the man is trying to replace the idea of someone or to try and get back what he lost.” 

Joel nodded at Michael, watching carefully as the younger male trekked to the back of the room, facing the wall so no one could see the burn in his eyes. 

Putting it all together, Joel spoke, “The man kills at night, usually around five in the afternoon when its rainy and bleak. He lures each victim in with his charm and then strangles them in a motel room. Sometime after, he writes song lyrics from the album _Disintegration_ by The Cure on the bathroom mirror. We believe they are a message to the one that he really wants. After leaving the message, he leaves the victims there for the cleaning ladies or whoever to find the next morning.”

Clapping his hands together, he finalized it. “That’s all we have for now. We’ll get back to you if we have more.”

And before they turned towards the conference room, they caught Ray’s eye and the hands on the clock.

It was almost five.

Together they knew that this ended here.

***

“Can you turn that up, buddy?”

The nickname came easy. 

He tried not to think of who else he called that but he had a new love now even though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replace what he lost.

“This, really, Geoff? Didn’t know you were The Cure type.” The boy who he had forgotten the name of already sat up in the passenger seat, spinning the dial with nimble fingers. 

Geoff watched them spin and touch, watched them caress the dial all wrong. His true love knew how to work his fingers, knew every tactic to get him shaking. All that time spent playing video games paid off for his love and at night, he still shivered as if they could feel them pressing the right combinations into his skin and his heart. A permanent etch with a fine tipped pen, digging in, spilling ink. He could feel the pen shatter under his hands.

“I’m a man of many wonders.”

And Geoff laid back in the driver’s seat, bottle of whiskey between his legs and a beautiful man on his mind with a wonder like no one else’s. 

He turned his head again, tried to catch the eye of the younger man of unknown name, tried to place the color. 

But the younger man was all sorts of wrong.

Skipping through the tracks to number eight, he spun the dial up just a tad. The boy beside him didn’t even flinch. 

Yes, he knew he’d have to let his life slip soon. Tonight, possibly, with the rain as his lullaby, under the weight of the sinking sun. 

And under the weight of his love’s sweet ghost of a memory.

***

“Has he contacted you in any way since then?”

Joel was curious but he was also cool, calm and murderous. Michael was all narrowed eyes and crossed arms as they drove around Austin, looking for any suspicious activity, more specifically at any hotels or motels. Ray was in the back seat, body curled up and eyes stuck on the foggy windows. It was cool for Austin but Ray felt frigid.

Ray decided to spin it. “What were the songs?”

But neither of them were fooled.

“You answer first then we do.”

Michael was the one to pull no stops. He was the one that had been dealing with Ray’s bullshit for years now. He was used to how Ray ducked and hid. But he was sick of seeing his best friend slip and slide straight to Hell. 

Ray took a moment to breathe against the window, to watch his heated breath fog up the cold glass. As it dissipated, he said, softly, “Just letters. They’re always lyrics.”

“How many?”

“Only four so far.”

Joel caught Michael’s eye.

“Let me guess. The four songs are ‘Pictures of You’, ‘Lullaby’, ‘The Same Deep Water As You’ and ‘Homesick’.”

None of them barely had time to breathe as Joel spun the car around, steering into the other lane. Heading to the south end of Austin, Joel squeezed the wheel tightly and tried to focus on the road in front of him but there was a boy that he liked terribly freaking out in the backseat and his coworker was bubbling over with rage in the passenger seat. He had saved countless number of people and he had gotten it wrong too. But there was too much at stake here and not enough time to waste.

“It’s weird. He never…played those.” The words came out taffy stuck and tongue tied. He was sinking.

Michael’s eyes narrowed as he punched the dashboard. “Something’s wrong here.”

Joel threw a hand up in the air as he pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. “What do you think I’m doing, Michael?”

“You know something I don’t?” Michael was yelling. His voice was going raw and scratchy. 

“Fucking think. Is there any motels here with the number five? Or maybe it’s a room number? Something we didn’t connect?” Joel’s mind was racing as he thought over every little piece of evidence. 

But the thing was was that he wasn’t the one that the killer wanted.

For once, Ray spoke up, confident and clear. “It’s eight. Motel Eight. Out on fifth street.” He sat up, leaning over the console as he caught Michael’s hand and squeezed. “It was a few blocks down from his apartment.” Michael crushed his hand, smiling gleefully.

“Thank you, Ray.” 

Joel didn’t have to say anything as Ray pressed a single kiss to his cheek. He almost laughed when heat bloomed in it wake, as soft and luscious as crimson. Whispering low in his ear, he spoke, “Just get him off the streets, please.”

Joel caught Ray’s eyes in the rear view mirror, nodding to the tune of the words that the younger male knew seemingly by heart.

Always.

***

And for once, the rain that came down in rivulets was purifying.

It was peaceful in its plopping and dripping, in its intricate dance and in its patterns. 

Despite the crash of a door, screaming voices and the pop of a bullet, Ray remained in the center of the motel, out in the open and with the rain like a long answered prayer.

And just like that, he felt like a rose in full bloom, plucked by the most tender of hands, no longer set on a course to disintegration. 

But, instead, left alive and at home (with all my pictures of you - oh, how all things go dripping down like the rain).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slips of paper with the words on it were things that Ray wrote down, not what Geoff gave him. He does that so he knows what words relate back to what happened so he has an easier time ignoring them at all possible. 
> 
> Previous trauma from Geoff's life was a stressor but Ray leaving him was also a stressor. With seemingly everything gone, Geoff feels as though that he has no other way to make it stop or to get anything back so he kills. And it is up to you if Geoff was killed or not in the end. 
> 
> Track number 8 on the _Disintegration_ album is Prayers for Rain.


End file.
